Out of Breath (Exposed Series Book 2) (12 page)

For the next twenty or maybe sixty minutes- I really had no
sense of time- I managed to keep my eyes open, stay upright on the futon, and
pretend to listen to what people were saying. I don’t think anyone said
anything to me directly during that time, but if they did, I’m sure I didn’t
answer them. Not coherently anyway.

Then I closed my eyes for just a second, and the party was over.

I knew I wasn’t in my bed before I even opened my eyes. The
mattress under me felt saggy. And there was a large body pressed up against me,
spooning me from behind. It was attached to the arm that was laying over me.
Fuck.

I opened my eyes and saw two lumps in Marty’s bed across from
me. One of them was attached to a hairy leg that was sticking so far off the
bed that the person’s big toe was just inches from the floor.  

I heard a groan and watched a mound of black comforter on the
top bunk shift its weight before erupting into a comically loud snore. I
wondered if that was what had woken me up. Or maybe it was the stench of stale
beer?

I reached towards the floor and felt around for my purse. When I
found it, I hoisted it up onto the edge of the futon beside me and pulled my
phone out of the side pocket as quietly as I could. That’s when I saw that it
was noon, and I had fifteen missed calls from my Aunt. Double fuck.

I rolled over to see who was next to me. It was Kevin. He was
fully clothed. Like me. No doubt because I had ruined everything by getting too
fucked up. But I had still gone to bed with him. Not exactly as I had hoped,
but still.

And I was relieved that it was him beside me. It would’ve been
terrifying to wake up in that frat house on my own. Or something worse. I just
hoped that I hadn’t embarrassed him too badly.

I took a moment to admire him as he slept. His cheek was smushed
against the futon, his lips were parted so he could breathe out of his mouth,
and a mess of dark curls framed his face. He looked like an overgrown cherub.

“Kevin,” I whispered, shaking him gently. “Kevin wake up. It’s
twelve o’clock. Kevin.”

He peeled his eyes opened and smiled at me dreamily. It warmed
me from head to toe to see him so relaxed. I let him take his time waking up
and relished his every groan. I wanted to remember what it was like to wake up
beside him. After all, I had no way of knowing if it would ever happen again.

And it was the first time I’d slept with a guy and still felt
like a lady in the morning.

I was about to call the police when I heard the key in the door.

As soon as I saw that she was okay, I threw my phone on the
couch, stormed back to my room, and slammed the door. I didn’t want to yell at
her. I didn’t have the energy, and even if I did, my lungs wouldn’t have been
able to back me up.

So I just slumped against the door and slid down to the floor.

A moment later, Kate knocked lightly. “Aunt Dawn?”

I sighed and let my head fall back against the door.

“I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to make you worry. It was an
accident.”

I took a deep breath, rose to my feet, and opened the door. The
smell of stale beer wafted in my direction. With her makeup worn off from the
night before, she looked young and pale. It wasn’t making it any easier for me
to accept that she’d been out all night.

“An accident?” I stepped forward and leaned against the
doorframe. “What kind of
accident
could’ve possibly kept you from
answering your phone all night.”

She swallowed.

“Well?”

“I fell asleep.”

I crossed my arms. “You fell asleep?”

She nodded.

“Where did you fall asleep?”

“At a house.”

“At a friend’s house?”

“Sort of.”

“Jesus, Kate. Just tell me the truth. I’ve been worrying all
night that you were face-down-skirt-up in a gutter somewhere.”

“I fell asleep at a frat house.”

“You mean you passed out.”

She shrugged.

“I guess you weren’t alone then?”

She shook her head. “I was with a friend.”

“What friend?”

“A guy from school.”

I walked around her towards the kitchen and filled two glasses
of water, passing her one before I took a sip from my own. 

“I’m so sorry.”

I shook my head. No wonder Carol had to color her hair. I felt
sick thinking about what I must have put my Mom through all those times I went
MIA because I didn’t give a shit. Because I was too busy doing drugs or-

“Were you doing drugs last night?”

Her face gave her away.

“What were you doing? Coke? Ecstasy?”

“No.”

“What then?”

“Just pot.”

I tried to hide the fact that I was relieved. “And you were
drunk?”

“Yeah.” She looked at the floor.

“So basically you got too fucked up.”

“Basically.”

“I’m glad you’re okay.” I put my glass down and leaned against
the kitchen counter.

“I’m sorry you were worried.”

“I thought the worst.” I ran my hand over the top of my head.
“Not because I don’t trust you, but because there are a lot of bad people out
there.”

“I know.”

“And I’ve tried to be really understanding,” I said, raising my
hands in the air. “So I couldn’t think of any reason why you wouldn’t call.”

“I know. I wasn’t trying to take advantage. I swear.”

“That’s not good enough. Why would you get that messed up?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t want to be lame. I wanted to impress
this guy.” She pulled out a kitchen chair and sat down. “His ex was there, and
she was gorgeous… and I felt-”

“Like he would pick you if you got paralytic?”

“It was an accident. I never intended to-”

“But you did.” I scratched the back of my neck. “You think he
would like you less if you didn’t get so messy?”

She put her hands between her knees. “No.”

I pulled out a chair and sat down next to her.

“The truth is no one cares how much you drink or smoke because
everyone is worried about their own good time. That’s why getting too messed up
is so uncool. It’s the only thing you can do that interferes with other
people’s fun.”

She nodded.

“Plus, it’s dangerous.”

“I know.”

“If you really want to impress people, be the kind of woman that
can look out for herself.”

“I was trying to be that kind of person. I just thought I could
handle more than I could.”

“I know.” I wasn’t so naïve I thought that she wouldn’t test her
limits again, but it seemed like a necessary waste of breath. “But next time
just call. Even if you’re off your face, okay?”

“Okay.” She pursed her lips. “I’m sorry.”

I shrugged. “Don’t do it again, and we’ll forget it ever
happened.”

Her eyes smiled. “Thanks.”

“So what happened with this guy you like?”

“He stayed with me.” She crossed her legs. “He was there when I
woke up this morning.”

“Sounds like a nice guy.”

“He is.”

“Are you sleeping with him?”

Her cheeks turned pink. “No.”

“But you’re thinking about it?”

She looked at me blankly.

I sighed. “Well, if you’re thinking about it, you can be sure
he’s thinking about it.”

She tried not to smile. “Maybe.”

“Of course he is. You’re a beautiful girl, Kate. Inside and
out.”

She looked at me.

“So don’t share yourself with just anyone.”

“I know,” she said.

But I wished she’d said “I won’t.”

I saw my Mom through the Panera window before she saw me.

She looked nervous. Granted, she hadn’t seen me in a few weeks,
but it made me sad to see her looking so forlorn. It was only when we made eye
contact that I remembered I wasn’t looking at a stranger, and I was relieved to
see her face light up when she saw me.

“Hi Mom,” I said, lifting my hand in a low wave.

“Hi honey!” She stood out of the booth to give me a hug which she
held for a moment too long. Then she squeezed the top of my arms and held me
out to get a good look at me. “You look great.”

“Thanks,” I answered, wiggling out of her grip.

I know she was trying to be nice and I appreciated that. I did.
But what I didn’t know was why she felt the need to look at me with such
scrutiny and comment on my appearance in the first place. Could she just not
help herself? I mean, did she really not get that my appearance was a major
source of anxiety for me? I swear, sometimes I was convinced she was the one
that needed counseling.

“Is Panera okay?” she asked in a stressful tone I hadn’t missed.
“We could go somewhere else if you’d rather, I just-”

“It’s fine. There are lots of things I like here.” Healthy
things that tasted good and wouldn’t set me off, things it wouldn’t be weird to
eat in front of her while she tracked my every bite like I was a newborn baby.

We ordered matching soup and salad combos. She made me order
first. I don’t know who she was trying to put at ease by getting the same
thing, but she was so tense it made me want to eat every pastry in the bakery
section. 

“So,” she said, tearing into her multigrain roll back at the
booth.

“So?” I took a sip of my iced tea.

“How are things going with Dawn?”

“Fine.” I didn’t want to say
, great, I’m much happier with
her than I’ve ever been with you
because I knew that would be like punching
her in the stomach. “She’s nice.”

“Good.” She stirred her black bean soup with her spoon. “She
said you’ve been getting yourself to and from school okay?”

“Yeah.”

“And you haven’t been giving her too hard a time I hope?”

“I don’t think so. I mean, I know I’m a guest at her place so
I’ve tried to be respectful.”

“Good.” She looked down at her soup. “Good.”

“Did she tell you otherwise?”

“No. She said you’ve been a joy. I think ‘delight’ was the word
she used.”

“And what? You don’t believe her.”

“Of course I do. I know how charming you can be.”

I could hear the hurt in her voice, the unsaid words; how
charming you can be
with other people
.

“And are you doing better with the- um…” She nodded towards my
meal, looked around, and lowered her voice. “The eating thing?”

“Yeah. Dawn’s been helping me a lot.”

“So you haven’t been…”

“No.”

She straightened in her seat like I’d just removed a cross from
her back. “Good, honey. I’m so glad to hear that.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Dawn’s great. She really knows how to help me.”
I wanted it to hurt a little. I wanted her to feel inadequate. “I don’t know
why she’s taking a break from her practice when she’s such a natural at
counseling people.”

My Mom stopped chewing. “What do you mean you don’t know why?”

“Well she told me she was tired and needed a break, but I kind
of got the sense that maybe there’s more to it than that.” I stabbed some
lettuce with my fork. “I mean, sometimes I feel guilty that she’s spending so
much time helping me instead of other people.”

“Well you shouldn’t,” my Mom said. “She doesn’t.”

“She doesn’t what?”

“Feel guilty about the time she’s spending with you.”

“Oh… Well that’s good.”

My Mom furrowed her brow, causing the two little lines she hated
between them to deepen.

“Are you okay?”

“Do you think you want to come home anytime soon?”

I looked back and forth between her eyes. I could see the strain
it caused her to act casual.

“You miss me already, do you?”

“Of course I do.”

“Well, thanks, Mom. I miss you, too.” I swallowed. “But I think
I need more time to get better. I don’t think I’m well enough to move back home
yet.” After all, away from home- away from my triggers- I was making progress.
But the truth was, even thinking about being home again filled me with anxiety.

“I understand.” She said it more like she was trying to convince
herself than me. “Well, at least we’ll get to spend some time together soon.
I’ve been talking to your Father about when I can take you on some campus
visits.”